


the winters they spent apart

by slackeuse



Series: how to set the night on fire [2]
Category: JBJ (Band), MXM (Band), Produce 101 (TV), The Boyz (Korea Band), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sorry tho, M/M, college au time!, or more like reburn?, sex & alcohol though nothing is explicit, slow burn 2park, they're both broken af sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/pseuds/slackeuse
Summary: Park Jihoon and Park Woojin spent a summer in love before they started college on separate sides of the country, but they both think they were the only one in love. Now they both think they can stop loving each other and they're willing to do whatever it takes.





	1. but you don't stay gone

**Author's Note:**

> *you can read this as a standalone, if you'd like!
> 
> *also, some notes:
> 
> 1\. the chapters will switch pov, staring this time with jihoon  
> 2\. jihoon is in LA and woojin is in NYC for school  
> 3\. because of the way the school system works in the US, i had to age woojin up so he would be in the same year as jihoon. school years start in september and end in june (at least for the purposes of this fic). the first chapter is the winter of their freshman year of college, so jihoon is 18 and woojin just turned 19. i'll note their ages in future chapters, too. everyone else's ages are relative to theirs for the most part.
> 
> so in sum:
> 
> warning, there is sex and alcohol because teenagers.

 

… _Freshman year_

For the first time in three months, Jihoon feels like himself. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s not neck-deep in schoolwork or if it’s because he’s making out with Donghan. Maybe it’s both.

Maybe he started feeling like himself a few hours ago when Haknyeon had him trying out a million different outfits in their dorm room so he’d look _just fuckable enough_.

“It’s important,” Haknyeon said, throwing another pair of black jeans at him. “It’s a fine line, you know? If you look too fuckable, no one will approach you. You’ll be too intimidating.”

“Too intimidating?” Jihoon maneuvered out of the current pair of black jeans Haknyeon decided weren’t tight enough and began pulling on the new ones. Which were tight. So tight. They also looked vaguely like leather. “I don’t need to look fuckable. I’m perfectly goodlooking enough to land myself a fuck if I wanted one.”

“But you’d choose to go in a yellow sweatshirt and those jeans of yours you wore almost every day this quarter and only washed twice.” Haknyeon sat on his bed, tilted his head as he assessed the fit of the new jeans. “These look good. Turn around.”

He did.

“Damn, that ass.” Haknyeon gave him a playful love pat. “Now a top. Maybe just a plain white shirt? Do you even own one?”

“Somewhere.” Jihoon sighed. “Why do you want me to get laid so badly?”

Haknyeon started combing through his t-shirts, tossed one over at Jihoon. “Wear this. It’s not just that I want you to get laid in general. I want you to get laid by someone very specific.”

“You?”

The blush was real. Why is he so fucking adorable? “You made me sign that dumb contract,” Haknyeon said and he was definitely pouting a little. “No fucking while we’re roommates. So no. I am not getting you dressed up and appropriately fuckable for me. Though I am enjoying myself a lot.” He paused as Jihoon took his shirt off. “Did you lose more weight?”

“Fuck if I know.” He pulled Haknyeon’s shirt on, then looked to him for approval. “This is basic as fuck and I’m not sure how it makes me fuckable, but please tell me it’ll do?”

“We’re not done. Sit down.”

After that, he traced Jihoon’s eyes with eyeliner—a soft hue, a little smudged so it didn’t stand out too much. He made him put on some lip tint, a few shades darker than his normal. Then Haknyeon added a necklace and he was satisfied, started getting ready himself.

They went to dinner first, of course. Someplace off campus. They met up with Donghan (who looks really fucking good with his dark hair in ripped black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket), and a few of his friends—Yongguk, Hyunbin, Kenta, Sanggyun, Taehyun. After eating, they head to Minhyun and Jonghyun’s frat for the party.

That was when Jihoon started drinking because isn’t this place just like Jisung’s house? Isn’t this party just like the one he went to with Woojin at the end of their senior year? But no, of course it’s not. Jisung’s house was smaller, had fewer men living in it by definition because it was a house and not a fraternity. And Woojin isn’t here. If he had been, then Jihoon sure as fuck wouldn’t have come.

So he takes every fucking red plastic cup handed to him no matter its size. Apparently looking _just fuckable enough_ means significantly more free drinks than normal. He hears Woojin in the back of his mind telling him to slow down, reminding him that he fucking hates puking. Thankfully, he shuts the fuck up at about shot number three.

Maybe he starts feeling like himself when he finds himself on the dance floor. He dances with Haknyeon first, then Haknyeon is distracted by Sunwoo, which is probably a purposeful move by Sunwoo because he’s not stupid and he probably knows Jihoon is dangerous. Especially right now.

A string of boys and girls attempt to dance with him after that, but after entertaining a few of them, he ends up crashing into a spot on the couch next to Donghan, who just smiles at him and lets his arm fall around his shoulder.

“Hey,” Donghan says. He gives Jihoon a squeeze. “Are you having any fun?”

He always asks the same question. Jihoon always has the same answer because what’s fun without Woojin? He swallows hard and tries to smile. “No. What makes you think I would have fun here?”

Donghan puts a hand on Jihoon’s thigh. “Thank you once again for your honesty.” He chuckles. “I just hope that your answer will change one of these times. You look good, though. And you looked like you were maybe enjoying yourself while you were dancing?”

God damn, Donghan had been watching him? He licks his lips. It’s not like it’s the first time and it’s not like it’ll be the last time, but he can’t help but like the idea of Donghan’s eyes on him. Just a little.

“I like to dance,” Jihoon answers, knowing what’ll happen next because it’s happened before. It always happens the same. “That’s all.”

“Let’s go, then.” Donghan kisses his cheek as he stands, then offers Jihoon a hand and helps him to his feet. This is pretty normal.

It’s normal, too, when Donghan leads him by the hand to an open space. It’s normal when he pulls him close, puts his hands on his ass, rolls his body into him. It’s normal when Jihoon wraps his arms around his shoulders and chuckles into his ear as he grinds back.

And it’s perfectly normal that it reminds him of that night at Jisung’s party when he’d decided to stop edging around how badly he wanted Woojin, when he’d made sure to put on a show that’d make Woojin say fuck it as well, when they’d had sex for the first time.

He stops dancing like he always does when he starts remembering how broken he is and who the fuck did this to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Donghan and pulls away.

Donghan follows behind him. “It’s okay.” He hugs him from behind as they try to find an open spot to sit again. There’s only the floor, but Jihoon isn’t picky. Donghan sits first, then motions for Jihoon to sit in his lap. It's really fucking tempting because Donghan is handsome as all hell and his drop earring is glinting silver in the party lights and he's smiling in that soft way that makes Jihoon think that maybe it is okay. “Really, it’s fine.”

“If it were fine, we’d still be dancing. I still want to dance. _Fuck_.” He paces a few steps away from Donghan because maybe it’s time to say fuck it to the memories. Maybe part of being fine is finding a way to _be_ fine despite it all. Maybe if he just dances anyway, he can just enjoy dancing for dancing and it won’t be about how he used to dance with Woojin, how they danced against each other, how Woojin knew exactly how to move to put a shiver on Jihoon’s skin.

“Fuck,” he says again because standing here isn’t helping, either. He offers a hand to Donghan. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Let’s keep dancing?”

Donghan cocks his head, then a slow grin moves across his face. He takes Jihoon's hand, and Jihoon tugs him to his feet. He expects Donghan to drop his hand, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps closer, entwines his fingers with Jihoon's other hand. The rings on his fingers are hot to the touch.

"Are you sure this time?" Donghan asks into Jihoon's ear, breath tickling across his cheek.

Jihoon removes the distances between their bodies. "Positive."

"Prove it," Donghan says. "Dance for me."

"Are you going to just stand there or something?" Jihoon asks. Something tightens in his chest, and he's not sure why. Is it because he wants Donghan to want to dance with him still? Is it because maybe Donghan is tired of Jihoon playing this game? Is it because he never thought Donghan would stop going along with this—with him?

Donghan smiles, all charm and confidence. "Until you make me move." He releases one of Jihoon's hands, snakes it around Jihoon's waist, traces a fingertip down his spine. He locks eyes with Jihoon, and his gaze steals Jihoon's breath. It's fucking fire. "I want to dance with you, Jihoon, but I'm not convinced you want to dance with me. Show me that what you want is me. Because what I want is _you_. You're what I've wanted since the moment I first saw you."

A spark jolts through him. Fuck. He'd forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, how intoxicating it is to hear that someone wants him, to see it in their eyes, to feel it on their skin. Maybe this is when he starts feeling like himself again.

"Alright," he says, in a level tone that surprises even himself, and he rolls his hips against Donghan as the beat drops. If Donghan wants Jihoon to spell it out for him, he'll fucking spell it out. He'll rock his hips to the way Donghan's touch makes his heart hammer in his chest. He'll grind his ass into Donghan's groin so he can feel the way he pools desire into his gut, makes it light a fire in him that chases a bit of the darkness away that's been haunting him.

There's a particular moment when Jihoon has backed Donghan up against the wall, has his arms around his shoulders, has his fingers buried into his hair at the nape of his neck, and is mercilessly laying his hips down on Donghan's that Jihoon is rewarded with a groan.

"Damn." Donghan moves his hands back onto Jihoon's ass, then he groans again and he's leaning down and his lips are on Jihoon's and everything is fucking perfect.

Donghan's lips are soft, gentle. He licks at Jihoon's bottom lip, and Jihoon meets his tongue with his own before their mouths open against each other, mold against each other. Donghan moves a hand to cradle Jihoon's jaw, so fucking delicate like he thinks that Jihoon just might break. It makes his knees weak, makes him feel like he could drown in the way that Donghan kisses him like he's the whole fucking universe. And maybe Donghan feels it, too, because he's holding him closer now.

Jihoon had forgotten what it'd felt like to be wanted because he's felt so fucking unwanted. Because if Woojin had actually wanted him, why would he have stopped Jihoon from telling him how he really felt? If Woojin had actually wanted him, wouldn't he have told him that he wanted him? Instead, Jihoon had sat alone in the airport terminal and watched Woojin type and type and type and then nothing.

Nothing after he got off the plane.

Nothing once he'd packed all his shit in his car and headed down to LA with Jinyoung.

If Woojin had wanted Jihoon, he wouldn't have done nothing, right?

It's not like Jihoon knows that there aren't people who want him. It's not like he hadn't seen the way Jinyoung looks at him sometimes. It's not like he hadn't almost given in to it, hadn't given in to simply wanting to feel it against his lips one more time before Jinyoung left back for Seattle. He hadn't, though.

This was different. This is Donghan. Donghan who has shown him again and again that he wants him, has backed off every time Jihoon had shaken his head, had mumbled sorry and pulled away from him. Donghan who has been patient. Donghan who makes him feel that maybe he's okay after all, that maybe he can get over Woojin, get over what happened. Donghan who holds him softly and kisses him even softer.

"Jihoon," Donghan moans against his lips, open mouthed so that Jihoon can feel the way his tongue moves around his name. "Do you want me? Say it. I want to hear you say it." Then his mouth moves to Jihoon's chin, down his neck. His teeth find his Adam's apple.

"I want you," Jihoon says, and it's like he's released a secret because he's smiling, he's chuckling, he feels like he's on top of the fucking world. He finds Donghan's head with his hands, lifts his face. "Fuck. I want you so bad." He kisses him, melts into him.

Then there's Woojin again in his mind that night at Jisung's party.

_Woojin stretches his hands across the small of Jihoon’s back and then dips his fingers into the back of his pants. Jihoon’s hands start on Woojin’s jawline, then his fingers are massaging his scalp. When Jihoon moans quietly, Woojin pulls him even closer._

_They kiss until Jihoon is sure he's going to lose his fucking mind and push Woojin back onto this damn couch in front of everyone at this damn party, but then they're pulling away from each other—Jihoon has no idea who moved first, but it's almost always like that with them—and Woojin is searching his face. A flush has washed over his face. He's breathing with his mouth open, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. His lips glisten, swollen and so fucking kissable. How much he wants Jihoon is written all over his damn face and it sets Jihoon on fire, builds a whole damn inferno in his chest._

_"Hey," Jihoon says. He licks his lips. Not because he's nervous but because he's fucking terrified. "What're we doing."_

_"Kissing," Woojin answers in that fucking way of his that makes Jihoon want to punch him in the face._

_If that's all they're doing, then maybe they should stop. So Jihoon creates distance between them. Maybe it's not that_ they _need to stop, but that_ Jihoon _needs to stop. "That part's obvious, dipshit. But I can't—I'm—you're—we're both—" And that's when he gives up because what he wants to say is_ we're both hard, Woojin, and I don't know if you want to take care of it for me like I'd take care of it for you. So let's just stop while we're ahead. Let's stop before I'm in over my head with you as if I'm not already.

_"Slow down," Woojin says. He removes his hands from under Jihoon's pants and places them on his waist instead. As if that's any better. "I can feel it. So go on."_

_Why does he have to be so weak for Park Woojin? He tips his head back, tries to think of the right words to say so that this doesn't stop but that it does stop if it's not going to work out the way he wants. He comes up short so he settles with, "If we keep doing this, we won't be staying on this couch for that much longer. Am I wrong?" When he returns his gaze to Woojin, he's shaking his head no. Of course Jihoon isn't wrong. "So what're we doing."_

_Instead of answering the question, Woojin asks instead, "What do you want?"_

_You_ , he'd wanted to say. It'd always been him. And this is when Jihoon should've just backed the fuck off. This was when he should've known it was going to be a fucking problem. Woojin hadn't said he'd wanted it—wanted him.

Donghan, though. Donghan is saying it. Loudly. Clearly. Saying it in his ear. Saying it against his mouth. Saying it against his skin. Saying it with the way he holds Jihoon close. Saying it with the way he fits their bodies together.

This is how he will get over Woojin. He is more than whether Woojin wants him or not. He will let himself be wanted. He will let himself want others. He wasn't ready when he'd had a chance with Jinyoung, but he's ready now.

"I want you right now," Jihoon says. He finds Donghan's eyes with his own, holds his gaze so Donghan knows he's serious. "I want you."

Donghan swallows, stares for a few seconds too long as if processing Jihoon's words, as if maybe he doesn't quite believe him. "There are rooms upstairs we can use."

"Lead the way."

So Donghan takes Jihoon's hand. They weave through the crowd. Jihoon catches Haknyeon's gaze for a moment, and his roommate seems to know what's going on because he gives him a thumbs up and a grin. Then Jihoon is following Donghan up the stairs and down the hallway. There are a lot of fucking rooms, and Jihoon has no idea how Donghan knows which one to go to, but it's down the hall and to the right. It's across from another door that looks the fucking same. He doesn't knock, just goes right in. It's dark and empty except for two frat-style bunkbeds and two dressers.

When the door closes behind Jihoon, the room is a lot quieter than he thought it'd be. He can still hear the music downstairs. It's still pulsing through his bones it's so loud. Somehow, though, Jihoon can only hear his heartbeat, hear Donghan's footsteps as he crosses the room to the nearest bunkbed. He turns to Jihoon, offers a hand.

"We can just chill in here for a while," Donghan offers.

Jihoon rests his palm against Donghan's, closes his eyes to the way it feels to touch someone like this. He steps up to him, looks at him. "Is that what you meant when you said you wanted me?"

"No." He's leaning down. His nose is against Jihoon's and the intensity of this closeness, this nearness, forces him to close his eyes again. "This is what I meant when I said I wanted you." He slides his nose against Jihoon's as he angles his head just right for their lips to meet again. Then they're taking a big breath of each other, tangling their tongues, tasting each other's teeth, sucking on each other's lips.

That's when the room's darkness starts edging into Jihoon's chest, clenching and tightening around it like a cage. He takes off his shirt, and suddenly he's back in Woojin's room six months ago faking bravado because he was so damn afraid that Woojin would decide he didn't want it after all.

_"You want to be top or bottom?" Jihoon asks as if he knows what he's doing. He's never been with a guy, so he doesn't. But he does, too, because he's thought about this before. He's thought of them like this before. Has Woojin?_

_“I don’t know," Woojin says. "I don’t think I care? But let me undress you.”_

Fuck. He's so fucked.

Donghan sets his hands on Jihoon’s bare waist, thumbs on Jihoon’s hip bones. The electricity of his touch straightens Jihoon’s back.

"Slow down," Donghan says, and it’s not like he knows Woojin said those words to him before, too. He doesn’t know that Woojin has said these ones to him before, either, when he says, "I want to undress you."

He wants to say no. He wants to back out of Donghan's arms. He wants to run out of this fucking room and run all the fucking way back home—no—to his fucking dorm room. He wants this, though. He wants Donghan. So he tells himself to breathe as Donghan leads him to the bottom bunk, gestures for him to sit, holds his hand gently as he does.

Donghan is kneeling in front of him as he watches his face. First, he takes off his shoes, his socks. He nudges his hips between Jihoon's thighs, resting his hands on his waist, leaning in and capturing his lips and his attention with the way his tongue moves against his so his fingers can work at the button of the tight jeans he borrowed from Haknyeon, work down his zipper. Donghan pushes Jihoon back onto the stiff mattress slowly, and then he strips off the pants, one leg at a time, leaving a kiss as each inch of skin is revealed.

Jihoon tells himself he's okay as Donghan straddles his lap, takes off his own shirt. He's okay with this, he tells himself as his fingers undo the button to Donghan's jeans, unzip him. He wants this. He wants Donghan. But he can't breathe. He can't hear anything but his racing heart. The darkness feels like it's pressing into his fucking bones, like it's trying to worm its way into his soul.

He wants Donghan, yes. He wants this, yes. But not _like this_. Not when all he wants to do is escape. Not when all he wants is to hide. Not when he's still so broken. He does not feel like himself at all. He has no idea who he is anymore. Why is he doing this? Why did he think he could do this?

"Donghan," he whispers, and his voice trembles. He wants to cry, but he refuses to shed any more tears for Woojin. "I can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't—"

"Hey." Donghan finds one of his hands. His is steady while Jihoon's is fucking quivering. "It's okay. We don't have to."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry."

"I need to go home. I mean. No." He squeezes his eyes shut, puts a fist over his heart. He wishes he could make it stop hurting. "I mean go back to my dorm."

"How about you get dressed in here, and I'll go get Haknyeon?" Then he pauses, puts a hand over Jihoon's fist. "Are you okay, Jihoon? I mean really. Because I don't think you are, and I want to be here for you."

He says nothing for a long time. Long enough that Donghan moves away from him and starts putting his clothes on. He stares at the bottom of the mattress on the top bunk, traces the floral pattern with his eyes until he's sure he's not going to cry and he thinks he's chased away the memories of Woojin that torture him the most. The ones where he thought they were in love, that they could be something.

"No," he answers, finally, as Donghan heads to the door. "I'm not okay. Don't go."

So he doesn't. He picks up Jihoon's clothes from the floor. "I'll text Minhyun hyung and ask him to get Haknyeon. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Jihoon." Donghan sits on the bed at Jihoon's feet, drops his clothes by his ankles, and starts putting on his socks for him. "These pants are going to be a bitch to put back on, though. I'm going to steal some. You think Jonghyun hyung will notice?"

"This is Jonghyun hyung's room?" Jihoon groans, hides his face. "Why the fuck would you bring me to Jonghyun hyung's room to have sex?"

Donghan chuckles, begins rummaging through the set of drawers closest to the bunkbed Jihoon's on. "Because it's clean and I knew there weren't twenty bunks in here. That shit's creepy. Here we go." He pulls out a pair, closes the drawer, then climbs onto the bed. Hunched over, he grabs Jihoon's underwear and starts sliding them up his legs.

"I can dress myself," Jihoon says, though he doesn't make any move to start.

"Oh, can you?" Donghan grins. "I undressed you, though, so I figured I could dress you back up again. Then I'll text Minhyun hyung about Haknyeon. Okay?"

Jihoon nods. "Okay," he whispers, though he's not sure why. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the tender way that Donghan directs him to lift his hips so he can pull his underwear up. He doesn't let his touch linger too much, but there's nothing platonic about it, either. He follows with Jonghyun's sweatpants, then finishes by pulling Jihoon into a half-sitting position and sliding his t-shirt over his head, putting his arms into the sleeves. He lays down, then, next to him on the bed, and tucks Jihoon's head under his chin.

"Should I tell him not to bring Sunwoo?" Donghan asks, the glow of his phone almost blinding as he starts texting.

"If Haknyeon brings him, that's fine."

"Got it. Alright, sent." Donghan envelops him in his arms, pulls the covers over him. The bed smells like Jonghyun. Jihoon tries not to dwell on the fact that he almost had sex with Donghan in Jonghyun's actual fucking bed. Where he's probably had sex with Minhyun before.

It's not just Haknyeon and Sunwoo who come, it's also Minhyun and Jonghyun. Jonghyun does notice that Jihoon is wearing his sweatpants, but he promises he doesn't care. He doesn't ask why they were in Jonghyun's bed or where Jihoon's leather-coated jeans are (under the bed). Haknyeon gives him a big hug when he sees him but doesn't ask what's wrong. No one does.

No one has this whole time when Jihoon is sure, now, that they all have known something has always been wrong—been wrong with Jihoon. Donghan keeps an arm around him as they head downstairs, and Haknyeon takes his other side, Sunwoo beside him. Jonghyun leads the way, and Minhyun follows behind. The party seems so far away with them beside him.

Outside, Jonghyun and Minhyun both give out hugs. Donghan seems like he's about to go in for a goodbye hug, but Jihoon squeezes his hand. "Will you...?"

Donghan blinks, but then he smiles. It's soft. It's fucking heartbreaking and Jihoon wishes he could take his words back because he shouldn't have asked after all the shit he's put Donghan through. "Of course."

Jihoon does not deserve these people.

So when they get back to Haknyeon and Jihoon's dorm room, Jihoon sits on his bed instead of crawling in. He pats the spot next to him for Donghan to sit. Haknyeon sits on his own bed across from Jihoon's like he knows what's about to happen. Sunwoo vaguely sits near Haknyeon as if he's not sure he should stay but wants to because Haknyeon's there. He catches Jihoon's gaze, and when Jihoon holds it, he settles in.

And Jihoon tells them about Woojin. At first, he's a stuttering mess and he's not sure where to start or what parts he should bother telling them about his fucked up summer love, about how he fucked up a friendship he cherished more than anything with his stupid feelings, about how he's not sure he'll ever be able to pick up his broken pieces because although he's saved every message they've ever exchanged, saved every picture they took together, saved every stupid selca Woojin has sent to him, he hasn't been able to look at any of it since he got to LA.

But he misses his voice, his stupid texts, his even stupider voicemails—misses when Woojin actually cared, when they were always together, when everything was simple and all he had to do if he wanted to hold his hand is reach out and all he had to do if he wanted a kiss was ask.

Now he's afraid to go home and run into him. He's afraid to reactivate his Facebook and see that Woojin's doing great without him because why wouldn't he be? He's afraid to hear from their friends that Woojin has met someone new, has new friends, has replaced him with a new best friend who isn't in love with him.

He hoped he'd feel better after telling them everything, but he doesn't. The heaviness in his chest makes it even harder to breathe. He feels ugly. He feels stupid. He feels like he had everything he'd ever wanted in his hands and fucked it up.

Now he has nothing.

He’s fucking empty.

It's dawn when they all climb into bed, Sunwoo with Haknyeon and Donghan with Jihoon. The room is almost too warm and it's definitely too quiet, but it's the first time Jihoon realizes that he doesn't like who he's become.

He's never hated anyone more than he hates himself right now, and he will never be anything but broken until he is Jihoon without Woojin.

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp 
> 
> yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/slackeuse) or [cc](http://curiouscat.me/slackeuse) (if you wanna be anon) but i also like comments <3


	2. so rooted to the ground

 

_…Sophomore year_

  

This is the first time Woojin feels totally fine, totally normal going back to Seattle. He can't tell if it's because he's gone home so many times now that it just doesn't hold the same weight as before or if it's because he knows he'll be back in New York City before he knows it. Maybe it's both.

Or maybe it’s because he’s at this record store that reminds him vaguely of the bookstore Jihoon used to work at in Seattle. The place is narrow and long, though most stores in this part of the city are. There’s a distinct smell of this-place-has-been-around-for-a-long-time that the bookstore had, too. It’s well-lit and the shelves are full and Ms. Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing)” is playing in the background as if Jihoon had sourced it directly from his #ThrowbackThursday playlist on Spotify.

Except this is a record store, not a bookstore, and Jihoon is definitely not here. If he was, Woojin is pretty sure he’d be totally fine with it. That’s where he is now. Totally fine.

He waves vaguely at the cashier, but in that sort of New York way that avoids eye contact and that’s actually just a small nod which maybe seems more like an upwards jerk of his head. In a back corner of the store, he finds a vinyl in a black cover. It looks vaguely heavy metal so he knows it’ll be perfect for his sister.

Every year, he tries to find something she’ll hate more than the last year so he can watch her pretend to love it in front of their parents when she opens her Christmas gift. Why would this year be any different just because he’s been living across the country for the second year in a row? This is the best way to tell her that nothing has changed. Because nothing has.

He pays with a wad of cash he stuffed into his back pocket a week ago and forgot about until he realized he forgot his wallet back at the apartment. Then he tucks it under his arm and heads back into the busy city streets to walk three blocks north. He sees Sihoon at the door of their apartment building fumbling with his keys.

“Wow, still don't know the right key?” Woojin teases, grabbing his own and picking out the big gold one that opens the front door. “Been like six months, man.”

“I have so many fucking keys. Just shut up and open it.” When Woojin pushes the door open, Sihoon waltzes in first. “Thank you. Grab your shit and let’s go. I wanna get back into the city sooner rather than later.”

Woojin follows him in, makes sure the old ass front door closes behind them. “Got a date?”

Sihoon presses the elevator button. “You know you’re my only regular fuck. Semi-regular. Or whatever regular. But yes. It’s a super hot date and you should be jealous and think about it while you’re away for the holidays.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you proper distraction material.” When the elevator door slides open, he shoves Woojin inside and presses the button for the fourth floor. “Since. Well.”

“Because I’m going back home and you’re afraid I’m going to wallow in a pit of despair if Jihoon’s not there again? Not happening. I don’t need distraction material for that. How’d your final go, by the way?”

“What final?” Sihoon flashes him a sly smile. Dimples and all.

“Did you even study?”

“What’s studying?”

Woojin sighs. “Like I said, I don’t need a distraction. And it’s not Seattle that was the problem last year.”

“You mean the idea of going back home and not seeing Jihoon didn’t make you have a whole ass panic attack in front of your taxi last year? Wow, could’ve fooled me. Maybe you should be an actor.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” The elevator dings as it reaches the fourth floor as if punctuating Woojin’s sentence.

“Okay, then what was it?” Sihoon backs out of the elevator so he can keep facing Woojin. “Because I don’t want a replay of that in front of _my_ car this year. I don’t have enough tissues.”

“I owe you the _biggest fuck you_ I’ve ever owed anyone in my life.” Woojin nudges past him down the hallway, getting his key ready since he know Sihoon won’t be able to find his in time and he doesn’t have the patience to watch him try seven different keys before finally finding the right one. Maybe he should ship him some labels from Seattle for his Christmas gift. “It was because we. I. Just when I’m in airports, I remember the last time I saw him, and I still wish I would’ve just told him how I felt one more time. And it was the taxi, too, and that night we shared in New York. And it’s the whole road trip. And just. The whole summer we had together. It’s all of that. All of it is why I couldn’t get in the taxi at first. But it’s different this winter. It’s been over a year. I’m fine. Everything’s good.” He unlocks the door and opens it, gesturing Sihoon to head inside first.

Sihoon, though, is looking at him in that way that tells him something he said probably hurt him in a way he hadn’t intended. Woojin’s maybe sometimes a little people-stupid, but he knows that Sihoon might like him more than he would care to admit, possibly more than he knows himself. Or at least that’s how Woojin explains the look that follows the pained one—a forced grin—as he heads into their apartment. “If you say it’s fine, then I guess it is. Wow, you’re all packed, too. You’re really ready to get the fuck out of here.”

“Hey.” Woojin knows he shouldn’t, but he takes Sihoon’s wrist gently. “I’m just ready to get the whole trip the fuck _over_ with.” He doesn’t provide him with the reason why—which is largely Jihoon.

“Why?” Sihoon licks his lips, a mischievous quirk to his lips. “So we can get in a few fucks before the new quarter starts and we’re shoulders deep in homework again?”

“Fuck yeah.” Woojin shuts the door, then goes in for a quick kiss. “We’re already late though, so let’s get this over with so you can forget all about me while you’re on your hot date. I want details, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. You and your vicarious dating.” Sihoon grabs one of Woojin’s bags and heads back to the door.

Woojin gives him another kiss, picks up the other bag. “Thanks, babe.” He regrets the word as soon as it leaves his lips because Jihoon’s chuckling in his ear like a fucking ghost. _Babe? Okay, sugar._

Sihoon grimaces. “Gross. Never again.”

“You’re right. Completely right.” Woojin opens the door and waits for him in the hall. He wants to fall into the memory of Jihoon smiling at him, talking to him, flirting with him, teasing him, kissing him—

“I’m always fucking right,” Sihoon says, closing the door. He grabs Woojin’s keys from his front pocket with a smirk, focuses on the only duo of keys on the ring, and shoves the smaller one into the lock. “I told Gwanghyun hyung he could have your room while you’re gone since his roommates are disgusting excuses for humans.” He dangles Woojin’s keys in his face.

He grabs them back, puts them in his pocket. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Where’d you park?”

“Few blocks up.” Sihoon starts heading back to the elevator, and Woojin follows behind him. “So what if Jihoon is around? Do you have a plan?”

Woojin suppresses a flinch at the thought. He’s glad Sihoon can’t see him. “He ignored the happy birthday text I sent him in May and he didn’t wish me a happy birthday, either, so I think he’ll probably ignore me and I don’t need to have a plan.”

Sihoon punches the elevator button and the door opens up since no one had taken it down since they arrived. He fits himself and the suitcase in the corner. As Woojin steps in with his bag and presses the button for the ground floor, Sihoon says, “But what’ll you do if he ignores you?”

“I don’t know?” He sighs, but the sound is mostly hidden by the elevator door closing. “I want to try to talk to him because I’d really fucking like to know what I did that was so bad that he’d stop talking to me. And maybe I can apologize? But if he doesn’t want to talk, then we won’t talk and so, again, nothing to plan.”

“Okay, but are you prepared for how that might make you feel?”

“Who are you, Youngmin hyung?” Woojin glances over at Sihoon and although it’s clear that Sihoon is just trying to help and his apology for being so persistent is written all over his face, it doesn’t help Woojin feel better. “I thought you didn’t want me to have a breakdown in front of your car, Sihoon.”

“I don’t, but I don’t really want you to have one all alone in Seattle, either.”

“So you don’t want me to go? You don’t want me to visit my family? Or see my other friends? The friends I’ve had since I was a kid? I won’t be all alone. Which, if I’m being honest, is worse. All my friends back home know we’re not speaking anymore and no one is asking me about it and it’s just fucking awkward and it’d be better if I was alone. Some shit you just gotta deal with on your own. I think this is one of them.”

“I think you’re wrong. Remember what I just said about always being right? You have my number if you need it. I expect texts. And if you need to talk, I’m just a phone call away.”

The elevator finally opens, and Woojin can’t get out of the elevator quick enough. “Yeah, thanks. I won’t need it, but yeah, the thought counts and all that bullshit.”

Sihoon quips back something, but Woojin ignores him. Instead, his mind swirls around the one possibility he’d actually ruled out. What if Jihoon does come home this year? He may not be talking to Woojin anymore, but he did see Jihoon on Facebook again. He unfriended him and made most of his profile private, but he sees him commenting from time to time. He’s still talking to the other friends they left in Seattle. Jihoon’s family also still lives in Seattle. He has every reason to go back home for the holiday just like Woojin.

 _Fuck_.

No. It’s still unlikely he’d run into him if they were in town at the same time. Jihoon doesn’t want to see Woojin for whatever reason or he wouldn’t have unfriended him from Facebook. So doesn’t that mean Jihoon will likely do whatever he needs to so that he doesn’t see Woojin while he’s in town? It’s up to Jihoon whether they meet or not, and if Jihoon not responding to his texts is any indication, Jihoon does not want to meet. So they won’t. It’s that simple.

The drive to the airport is spent listening to their favorite songs. Sihoon sends him off with a hug and a kiss with tongue that is supposed to distract Woojin from the bad associations he has with this place. Instead it just triggers them. Because this is what he’d wished his drop off with Jihoon had been like. A hug, a kiss, and _I love you_.

Instead he checks in and goes to the opposite side of the airport to go through security so that he doesn’t have to see the spot he last saw Jihoon, doesn’t have to remember that look on Jihoon’s face that he still can’t read no matter how many times he dreams about it.

His parents pick him up from the airport although he told them they didn’t have to. Then they grab Yerim from her last day at school and get dinner at his favorite restaurant in town. Before bed, he makes sure to text all his friends that he’s back—Sungwoon, Seongwoo, Daniel, Jisung, Hyungseob, and even Jinyoung. Daniel answers right away even though it’s almost midnight, probably because he’s gaming.

He spends the next two weeks leading up to Christmas hanging out with whoever’s free. No one mentions Jihoon. Not even by accident. Hyungseob basically moves into his room for the week before Christmas as they catch up on their first quarter as sophomores, their first quarter living outside of the dorm and without any supervision whatsoever. Hyungseob doesn’t ask about Jihoon, doesn’t ask for any updates on their situation.

Woojin is hanging out with Seongwoo, Daniel, Jisung, and their new friend Jaehwan at Jisung’s place when he first hears about the New Year’s Eve party Jisung is supposedly hosting the next day. He should’ve taken the hint from the awkward pause after Jaehwan brought it up, but to be fair, being in Jisung’s house is a lot for him.

For instance, he’s sitting exactly where he was the night of the party that started the best summer of his life. He remembers the way Jihoon had looked at him, had let his want sparkle in his eyes as he danced in front of Woojin— _for_ Woojin.

“What party?” Woojin asks. 

Daniel and Seongwoo both turn to Jisung, and although Jisung is opening his mouth to answer, Jaehwan beats him. “You know, a party where people get together at a house like this and drink until midnight to watch the fireworks and then go immediately home. Jisung’s hosting like last year.”

“Wow, I’m only a little hurt I’m just hearing about it now.” He leans back and he swallows against the memory of Jihoon sitting against his side. Even the mention of a party at Jisung’s should’ve been enough to make him abort the whole conversation. “When’s it start?”

“Sorry,” Seongwoo says quickly. “I thought you knew?”

“Uh, yeah,” Daniel adds. “Me too.”

“It starts at eight.” Jisung smiles. “It’ll be a smaller party than you’re used to me having. We’ve toned it down in our old age…”

“But there will be food?” Woojin inquires.

Jisung chuckles. “There will be food, yes. Which reminds me, I’ve got some prep to do or there actually won’t be any food tomorrow for the party. Anyone who stays is volunteering their mind, body, and soul in the name of cooking a feast for now ten hungry boys.”

Ten. He really should’ve done the math.

“Not me.” Woojin gets up, chugs the rest of his beer. “I’ll be off. Mom’s making another one of my favorites because I’m loved. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Eight.”

“Oh,” Daniel cuts in, “and we’re doing that white elephant gift exchange thing again so pick something up or we’ll just kick you out.”

Woojin promises to bring something adequate, then heads out. He lives about a fifteen minute walk away, so as he travels along the residential sidewalk, he texts Hyungseob about the party. He does not get the instant answer he expected and gets instead something that vaguely sounds hesitant. He wants to joke about how it sounds like they didn’t really want to invite him, but he stops himself short.

The next day, he wakes up before noon and lets himself take a few hours to actually wake up, eat, shower, and get changed. He takes the time to swap around the cars so that his old beat up Honda can escape from the side of the house. He has to get a gift, after all, and hit up all his favorite places before he has to leave.

He starts with coffee and because he’s walking past the bookstore Jihoon used to work at, he peeks inside. Jihoon is not behind the counter, so he goes in. He scours the bookshelves for something that would maybe be a good gift for white elephant, but besides a ridiculous book for kids about pooping, he comes up short.

Next, he stops at his favorite lunch restaurant although it’s across town. He takes a picture and sends it to Sihoon to make him jealous. He should’ve known this would happen, but when he’s heading back to his car, he can smell the waffle cones from his favorite ice cream shop. _Their_ favorite ice cream shop. He knows he shouldn’t, but he knows his taste buds won’t be disappointed. There are cute baby clothes he considers buying as his white elephant gift. Also a rattle. He could also go for a gift certificate. Instead, he walks out with three scoops of ice cream in a waffle cone and heads to the park so take a lap while he eats it all.

Once he’s back in his car, he searches on his phone for a gift shop he can just buy something weird from. There are expectedly hundreds, but the one out on Alki Beach catches his attention. He might be able to catch the sunset on the beach if he’s quick, so he starts up his car without really thinking about it and drives out there. He gets something stupid at the surf-themed gift shop there that someone will surely hate, then finds a place in the sand to take a moment to watch Seattle’s beauty unfold in the changing lights of dusk’s awakening.

By the time he’s supposed to leave for the New Year’s Eve party, he’s not sure he wants to go anymore. And he knows why. He shouldn’t have gone back to the bookstore Jihoon worked at, shouldn’t have gone to their favorite ice cream place, shouldn’t have walked around the park Jihoon used to play soccer in, shouldn’t have gone to the beach they played volleyball at that one time, shouldn’t have spent this whole goddamn day reminding himself how dumb in love he is with Park Jihoon still.

As if he needed a reminder.

But he’s getting up, brushing off the sand from his pants. He’s getting back in his car, driving back home. He’s putting on slightly tighter jeans and changing his shirt to a clean one and dabbing on a bit of the cologne Jihoon told him smelled good once five years ago anyway. Because he knows even though the last place he wants to be is with a bunch of people who know he had a falling out with Jihoon but won’t ask him about it. Because he knows that if Jihoon were in town, he’d go. Because if Jihoon ends up going, Woojin wants to see him. Because maybe, just maybe, If Jihoon sees him, maybe he’ll talk to him, maybe he’ll smile at him again, maybe he will be friends with him again.

So he goes. Walks a few blocks with his favorite music blasting in his earbuds. He lets himself in and everyone’s scattered between the living room (Sungwoon, Seongwoo, Daniel), the dining room (Hyungseob, Jinyoung), and the kitchen (Jisung, Jaehwan). No Jihoon. There is no sigh of relief. His chest feels like it’s carrying a rock the size of the sun.

“You made it!” Hyungseob reacts first. He stands, crosses the short distance from the dining room to the front door with his mouth half-full. He gives him a big hug. “You’re never late, so I just figured you—”

“Is that your white elephant gift?” Jisung interrupts. He has on an apron with a carrot-themed pattern (white elephant, 2015). He plucks the bag from his hand. “You could’ve wrapped it at least.”

“Not my style,” Woojin says, even grins. Because this is normal. It’s just a little get-together with all of his favorite people in Seattle. There’s some awful Christmas music playing softly in the background. There’s a gingerbread house on the table near the fireplace, a whole Christmas tree is set up in the corner of the living room, and he’s pretty sure what Hyungseob is chewing on still is a delicious festive ham. This is nothing like the party last summer.

This is safe. This is comfortable. This is exactly where he should be.

“Of course it’s not,” Jisung says, pivoting toward the Christmas tree. “Daniel, can you put this with the rest and maybe go out to the garage and grab a chair for Woojin?”

“I can just sit on the floor or something,” Woojin volunteers.

“Chairs?” Daniel asks, getting up anyway. “I can just text—”

“I’ll go,” Jinyoung volunteers.

“Wait,” Sungwoon says. “Did you tell—”

The backdoor opens.

“You didn’t tell them,” Sungwoon finishes.

It’s Jihoon. He’s been out in the cold for a while because his nose and his cheeks and his ears are red and he’s rubbing his hands together. He is not wearing a jacket, though, and that’s when Woojin realizes that Jihoon got here _before_ he did. Must’ve. And he’d gone outside for a few minutes with the tall dark-haired guy standing in the door behind him, putting his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders, pulling Jihoon closer to him.

Jihoon. _Jihoon._ It’s _Jihoon_. Standing across the house from him. Looking back at him. Looking _at him_. Woojin takes a step closer. “Ji—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sungwoon asks, a bite to his voice that Woojin has never heard before. It makes him stop, but his eyes do not leave Jihoon’s. “I’m sorry, Woojin. I told them not to tell you about the party because they’d already invited Jihoon and this isn’t something anyone should walk into without a motherfucking _warning_. They should’ve at least told you he was coming.”

There’s just enough light reflecting in Jihoon’s eyes that Woojin can tell they’re watery. Jihoon is not okay. Jihoon is staring at him and almost crying and Woojin doesn’t understand why. He tries again before he even knows his lips are moving. “Jihoon.”

“Hey, hey.” Daniel’s frown is in his voice, but Woojin doesn’t care. He’d wish they’d all go away so he can finally talk to Jihoon. “You make it sound like it’s Jihoon’s fault for showing up?”

“It’s not Jihoon hyung’s fault,” Jinyoung says somewhere in the background. “That’s for fucking sure.”

Again, he tries, “ _Jihoon_.”

“And it’s not Woojin’s, either,” Hyungseob says.

“I didn’t say it was.”

“There was an implication.”

“Oh, was there? Didn’t notice, hyung.”

“Jihoon,” Woojin tries one more time, and it falls in a pocket of silence that makes it sound like he nearly shouted it across the room at him.

The quiet that follows makes it hard for Woojin to figure out what he should do next. He tries stepping closer, but he nearly falls over himself because his legs can’t work while his heart his beating this fast and he’s not breathing nearly enough and his mind is grasping for a solution to the problem that is Jihoon on the other side of the room looking like the most beautiful, broken mess he’s ever seen in his life. And he knows that he’s the reason for it. Jihoon is hurting, and it’s Woojin’s fault.

There’s a moment where Woojin thinks that maybe Jihoon is going to say something. Where’s his mask? Where’s his carefully controlled expressions? He should be smiling to hide this pain, should be laughing at how despite all their effort to help keep them apart, they ended up bringing them together anyway. Then he should be _too nice._ Thank them for inviting him. Tell them that it’s more important for Woojin to spend time with his friends. Then with that ethereal smile of his, he should go around and hug everyone goodbye except Woojin.

Instead, he looks away from Woojin, sucks in a breath that’s way too audible for Woojin’s heart, and turns back. He brushes past the guy who must’ve been outside with him and leaves. Just like that. It hurts.

“Sorry,” the guy says. He offers a smile, something that looks between angry and apologetic. “I think we’re going to just head out. We’ll grab our jackets tomorrow or something?”

“Of course,” Jisung says. “Tell him we’re sorry. This wasn’t—No one wanted this. Thanks for coming, Donghan. I hope you visit with him again. It was nice meeting you.”

The guy—Donghan—gives him something Woojin imagines is his real smile. “Thanks. It was nice meeting all of you.” He locks eyes with Woojin. “You, too, Woojin.” He waves, then follows Jihoon out of the back door.

Woojin wants to storm after him. He wants to punch Donghan right in that handsome face of his and tell him not to fucking touch Jihoon again. He wants to wrap Jihoon in his arms and beg him for answers. What was it that he did that hurt Jihoon like this? How could Jihoon be this sad over what Woojin was sure he thought was just a summer fling?

And then it hits him.

“It wasn’t.” He leans back against the front door. He puts a hand over his heart, grips his shirt. “It wasn’t.”

Wasn’t just a summer fling.

Wasn’t just casual sex.

Wasn’t just friends with benefits.

Park Jihoon may have been in love with him. Woojin had been sure Jihoon had heard him confess that night, but what if he hadn’t? Because if Park Jihoon was in love with him, then he would not have pretended he hadn’t heard it, would not have tried to ditch him before getting into the taxi and after getting out of the taxi, would not have tried to reject him before getting into the security check line, would not have stopped talking to him. What if at the airport, Jihoon wasn’t preparing to turn him down, but he’d wanted to say something entirely differently?

“I fucked up,” he says, and he can hear the others start saying that he didn’t or that they both had or that this wasn’t his fault, but he’s not listening. He bangs his head back into the door and that shock of pain isn’t enough to stop his tears or his sob.

Because if he’d just let Jihoon say what he’d wanted at the airport, maybe they wouldn’t be like this right now. If he’d let Jihoon say what he’d wanted, maybe they’d be _together._ If he’d let Jihoon say what he’d wanted, maybe he’d have Jihoon.

Instead he has a hole in his chest, one that he’d thought had healed over the last year with dancing and friends and constant reminders that he’s a catch, that anyone would want him, that he’s totally fine without Jihoon in his life. None of that matters now, though, because that hole isn’t from heartbreak like before. This is the same hole, only bigger, and it’s from knowing that he could’ve had everything he’d wanted and instead he broke it.

What hurts the most, though, is that he’s still so fucking in love with Jihoon even after all this time and he doesn’t deserve to be.

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally !!! sorry for the long wait. i'm hoping to finish up the last two chapters by the end of this month, so please feel free to cheer me on and remind me of this promise via [twt](http://twitter.com/slackeuse) or [cc](http://curiouscat.me/slackeuse)...
> 
> also it goes without saying comments are also a very very very huge motivator ?


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